


Playing Human

by Gwenhwyfar1984



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesiac Castiel (Supernatural), Drama, F/M, Falling In Love, Marriage, Romance, Season 7 Alternate Universe, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 20:43:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18668029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gwenhwyfar1984/pseuds/Gwenhwyfar1984
Summary: One evening, Meg is visited by a man calling himself Chuck. After Chuck tells her Castiel is going to need her assistance and protection, Meg reluctantly sets out to help the amnesiac angel. Little does Meg know that Chuck's plans are far more complex than she knows.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dreamwidth's 15 Kisses Community, Aquarius table, #4-Manipulate
> 
> Thank you to Tanyareed for Betaing this!

Meg didn't dream.  
She didn't even sleep. Her demonic energy kept her sustained. Sleep was for the weak.  
So when she found herself in her apartment one second, and then a grassy field the next, she knew something was wrong. She hadn't teleported, nor had anybody teleported her. That had a distinct feel to it that was absent.  
Plus, she could feel the heat of the sun warming her skin. That was another thing that demons didn't have: the ability to feel temperature. She never got hot or cold.  
“Hello, Meg,” a voice said behind her.  
She tensed and realized that she had no weapon. Well, she still had her powers. Turning around, she saw a man calmly watching her. He had brown hair, a mustache, and beard. He was dressed extremely casually in a white t-shirt, jeans, and light brown jacket.  
“I'm not going to harm you,” he said.  
“Yeah, forgive me if I don't trust you,” she replied.  
“You're forgiven,” he said, and his smile held some kind of private joke.  
“Who the hell are you? Did you bring me here?” she demanded.  
“Yes. As for who I am, call me Chuck.”  
She studied him, trying to get a sense of what he was. She got...nothing. He didn’t feel like a human or a creature. Angel or demon. He was a big, empty blank, and it scared her.  
“Stop trying, Meg. You cannot see who I am. Accept that.” His tone was one of someone who was used to being obeyed.  
Meg crossed her arms and glared at him. “What do you want?”  
“I need your help.”  
“And why should I help you? You’re being mister secretive after all.”  
“I should clarify. I need you to help somebody else.”  
“Who?”  
“Castiel.”  
The name hit Meg like a punch, bringing to mind images of tan trench coats, tousled hair, and extremely hot kisses. Chuck chuckled and she got the sense that he knew exactly what she was thinking.  
“Castiel's dead.” Killed by the Winchesters for betraying them and taking over the world.  
“I have it on good authority that Castiel's death will be remedied.”  
Meg didn't speak for a few moment, trying to process this information. Castiel was being brought back? That was...  
She was even more scared of the Being in front of her. Who was he to know this kind of thing?  
“If what you say is true...I’m a demon. He’s an angel. Why should I help him?” she asked, while inside her head she was screaming to wake up. It didn't work.  
“Because you’re the only one who can.” Chuck turned and walked a few paces to a fallen tree. He sat on it and sighed. “When you find him, he’s not going to be the same.”  
“Again, Demon. Angel. Why not have one of his own kind--”  
“Because his own kind want to kill him. And those that don't are too intimidated by those that do to do anything.” Chuck sounded incredibly disappointed. “He’s going to need protection.”  
“From angels.”  
“From everything.”  
“He’s strong, can’t he just--”  
“I told you, he won’t be the same. He’s going to think he’s human, and you have to let him. A barrier has been placed in his mind. His memories...altered. He cannot remember who he is or was.”  
“Or?”  
Chuck was silent.

Meg turned and closed her eyes. This weight felt wrong and unfair. She was a demon, allied with Hell and--  
Except, she wasn’t. She was a demon, but Hell? Hell was Crowley’s domain now. She was an Army of One and that was a joke. She had been laying low since her assassination of Crowley. Or rather, the horrible trick that had been played on her making her think she'd gotten her revenge.  
That Castiel had played it on her had almost been as bad as seeing Castiel playing god.  
“His powers, except healing, will be locked away. He’ll only be able to access them in an emergency,” Chuck explained, breaking through her thoughts.  
Meg nodded. This might work out. She'd protect him and he'd protect her. Her own private angel guard.  
She turned back around. “Why me though?”  
“You intrigue me, Meg.”  
She raised an eyebrow. “Really?”  
“Yeah. I want to keep an eye on you.”  
She snorted. “Are you trying to flirt? Because it won’t work.” She waved her hand towards him. “Not my type.”  
Chuck gave a smile that held many secrets. “I’m not. Besides, I know you belong to someone else.”  
“What? Who--” There was a flash of light and Meg awoke on the floor. She shook her head, hoping to clear the memories of the strange dream. It didn't work. They clung to her mind, and she had the strangest urge to start driving. She wasn’t entirely sure of her destination, but she knew how to get there.

A day later she was hiking through a forest. The sound of a rushing river filled the woods. Most of the animals, sensing her demonic nature, had fled.  
A few miles in, closer to the river, she heard footsteps and the breaking of twigs. Clutching a knife, she started towards it. The pull that had brought her here was stronger now, driving her closer and closer to the person making the footsteps. Rounding a tree, she saw a figure.  
A man.  
Castiel.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel spun around when she deliberately made noise. His eyes widened, and he took a step back, raising his hands. “Please don’t hurt me. I’m unarmed.”  
Meg let her eyes roam up and down his naked body and smirked. “I can see that. Relax. I’m not going to.”  
He lowered his hands and awkwardly covered himself. “Okay. Um…”  
Meg could tell right away what Chuck meant about him being different. Besides the nudity, she could barely sense his angelic grace. It was more like being in the presence of an enhanced human. His eyes were also different. Instead of barely held disdain or curiosity, this man seemed vulnerable and frightened. He was like a different person. She didn't like it.  
Meg pulled off her backpack to distance herself from the strange feelings this turn of events caused. She pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt. The same urge that had directed her here had also made her stock up on supplies. She tossed the clothing at Castiel. “Here. Get dressed.”  
He looked at the clothes, surprised. “Thank you.”  
She wanted to scream at the sincere gratefulness in his tone. Instead she pulled out a pair of sneakers and tossed them at his feet.  
He turned his back and dressed. “Who are you?”  
“Name’s Meg.”  
“Meg,” he repeated quietly to himself. “I don’t know my name.”  
“Really?”  
He turned back around, dressed. “No. Do you know who I am?”  
“What I know is you need to get out of here. Come on. I have a place we can go.”

He followed her with no hesitation, like a stray puppy. She drove them to a motel that she’d gotten before her hike in the woods. When they entered the room, he looked around with interest at the gaudy striped wallpaper. She directed him to the bathroom and shower first, mainly to give her time to think of how to handle this. Despite what Chuck had told her, she hadn't expected it to be this bad. All too soon he was back in front of her, eyes full of questions, and she had no real answers.  
“How did you know to find me?” he asked.  
“I was led there,” she replied, going with the truth. She sounded like she should be on one of those early Sunday morning shows preaching to the gullible.  
“By who?”  
That was the question, wasn’t it? “A dream and a feeling,” she replied.   
He smiled. “God?”  
“What made you think that?”  
“It just popped into my head,” he said, a troubled look coming over his face. It was quickly replaced by a scary blankness, and then he was back to normal. It let her know she was treading on dangerous ground.  
“Well, believe what you want. I just know that I was meant to be there and to help you.”  
“Why? Who am I?” The quiet desperation in his voice made her want to run from the room.  
“Because you’re super special, apparently,” she said. He looked frustrated, confused, and exhausted. She could relate to a couple of those. “Look, I can't answer your questions. What I can do is help you.”  
“How?”  
“Clothes. Shelter. You know, stuff like that.”  
“That would be nice. Can food be on that list?”  
Wow. Apparently his human disguise went deeper than she had thought. “Uh, sure. Let me order something.”  
She ordered a pizza, pepperoni with extra cheese, while he sat down on the foot of the bed and turned on the television. Channel surfing, he landed on a nature documentary.  
“It’ll be here in thirty,” she told him, flopping down at the head of the bed.  
“All right.” He watched his show, and she surfed the internet on her phone. “I don’t have a name. Well, I probably do, but I don’t know it.”  
“Then choose a new one.” She pulled up a baby name website. “Here. Over 10,000 choices.”  
He took the phone and began to scroll. After a few minutes he shook his head. “None of these sound right.”  
“What about Clarence?” she asked with a smirk.  
“Clarence,” he repeated, slowly, and then gave her a large smile. “I like it.”  
Her eyes widened[,] and she tried not to laugh. “Really?”  
Then she remembered that he had no idea that the first time they'd met, she'd mocked him with the movie reference.  
“I'm sorry, was it supposed to be a joke?” he asked.  
“No. I think Clarence suits you perfectly,” she replied, taking back her phone and ignoring him until dinner arrived.

“What happened to your face?” he asked her, picking off a slice of pepperoni and looking at it.  
Meg took a bite of pizza. “What about my face?”  
“It's different. It scared me at first, but you were so nice.”  
Slowly, she set down her food. Ignoring the 'nice' comment, she asked “What do you see?”  
He looked at her and narrowed his eyes. “You're… It's difficult to describe. It's like you have two faces. The first one is normal. Pretty, even. Underneath that...you're full of scars. It's twisted and… Does it hurt?” he asked with complete innocence.  
Great. Block everything else, yet still allow him to see the true faces of demons. He obviously didn't even know what a demon was! “No, it doesn't hurt.” Now. Getting them, however, was a different story. “It's a birth thing.” Partial truth. They were the result of the torture that made her a demon. She was proud of them.  
“Oh, I see. I'm sorry,” he said, looking down at his food.  
“Whatever.”  
“I did not mean to—“  
“What. Ever. Are you going to eat or play with it?” she asked, testy.  
They ate the rest of the meal in silence.

o.O.o

She was dreaming again.  
The same field. The same warm sunlight. Even though she knew Chuck was there, she took a moment to soak it in.  
“I found him,” she said without turning around.  
“I know,” he replied.  
“So now what?” she asked, turning around. “He's fed, clothed, and sleeping.”  
“You need to leave.”  
“I thought you wanted me to protect him.”  
Chuck rolled his eyes. “I mean, the both of you need to leave. Go someplace safe.”  
“I have safe houses.”  
“No. You might think you're laying low, but you're still where the action is.”  
Meg bit back a retort because it was true. She liked safe houses in cities where she could find out the gossip if she wished.  
“That won't work now. Sooner or later someone would find Castiel.”  
She felt the weight of everything pressing on her. “So what?” she lashed out. “I'm supposed to uproot my entire existence for him?”  
“Yes,” Chuck replied simply.  
Meg turned and strode to the edge of the clearing. Flicking her hand, she demolished a tree.   
This wasn't right. She had a—  
A what? Her life was moving from safe house to safe house. Eventually Crowley would catch up to her. It was inevitable. Having an angel on her side would be really handy.  
Except he could barely be called an angel. He was more like a puppy.  
Still, a broken angel was better than nothing.

She returned to Chuck and crossed her arms. “Where do you want us to go?”  
Chuck had a small, knowing smirk on his face, and she fought the urge to slap it off. “You'll find out.”  
“No. No more getting in my head. Be straight with me.”  
“That's not really my thing...”  
“Yeah, well, taking care of angels isn't really my thing. We'll adapt together.”  
Chuck gave a full laugh. “This audacity is why I like you, Meg.”  
She didn't really know what to say to that.

  
  


 


	3. Chapter 3

Meg drove the car up the gravel drive and parked it in front of the house. It was a modest but nice  house. Brick siding, two stories, large windows, and a small porch in the front.  
“This is where we're living?” Cas—no, Clarence, asked.  
“Yep. Come on,” she said, placing her hand on the door handle.  
He just sat there.  
“What?”  
“This is too much, Meg. Finding me is one thing. Moving me across the country? Buying this nice house? You don't even know me!”  
“Well, I moved here, too, and I'm not living in squalor. There's a second bedroom. Take it or leave it; I don't care.”  
He gave her a stony look, and she sighed. His stubbornness had not changed.  
“Look, you know how I was meant to find you?”  
“You had a dream and a feeling.”  
She gestured to the house. “Part two.”  
Chuck had told her to move to the Olympic Peninsula in Washington state. Apparently it had low demonic activity. Meg could see why. There was hardly anything more than trees and mountains in this particular area.  
The house was hers though. She had told Clarence the truth; there would be no squalor for her. As for buying it...she had payed for it. If her tech expert went in later and took the money back...well, there was a reason Meg was a multi-millionaire.  
“So you were drawn here?”  
“Yep.”  
He seemed to accept that more than her generosity and finally got out of the car.

“This is a beautiful house. Nicer than the virtual tour,” Clarence said once inside. He looked in the large living room, dining room, and kitchen. She hoped he didn't expect her to cook. Yeah, she was playing human too, but she had her limits.

They both went upstairs, and she pointed to the spare room.  
“It's very large,” he said and looked down at his backpack. She knew it contained a set of spare clothes, toiletries, and a book.  
“You'll fill it up. The furniture truck is coming today, remember?”  
She had found a local home furnishing store online and picked out everything with him. It had been such a domestic event that while he had slept, she had snuck out and caused mischief for a warlord an ocean away just to feel like her normal self.

The furniture arrived an hour later, and they spent the rest of the day setting everything up. Meg peeked into Clarence's room and saw that he seemed to have no taste. The furniture itself was fine and made of simple wood. His bedspread, however, was bright yellow, the curtains were orange, and the rug was white with red, blue, and black geometric shapes. It reminded her of a child's attempt at decorating.  
But then, in a way it was. Angels weren't known for their appreciation of beauty or their ability to make their own choices. This was a first for him.  
“What do you think?” Clarence asked, smiling.  
“It's different,” she said. “Do you like it?”  
“I do. It's very cheerful, don't you think?”  
“Mm,” she replied, non-committal. “So, I'm going to order some take-out. Sound good?”  
He followed her down the staircase. “Yes, I—“  
The ringing doorbell interrupted him. Meg instinctively pulled her knife out and approached the door slowly. Opening it so that the knife and the left side of her body remained hidden, she found two women on the porch, one holding a baking dish. She did not sense that they were demons or angels, just humans. Still, it did not hurt to be careful.  
“Hi! I'm Cynthia, and this is my wife Laurie. We're your new neighbors. We saw the truck today and thought we'd come over and say hello,” the taller of the women said.  
Meg was about to answer when she felt a firm hand grip her left wrist. She looked at Clarence sharply, but he didn't let go.  
“Hello. I'm Clarence and this is Meg. It is very nice to meet you. You're neighbors?” Clarence asked, joining Meg at the door.  
“Yep. We live just through the trees over there,” Laurie said, pointing to the left.   
“Oh. It's nice to know we have neighbors It's very isolated up here.”  
“That's why most people move here,” Cynthia said with a laugh. “Anyway, we also wanted to bring this.” She held out the dish.  
“When we moved we did not feel like cooking. It's store bought, so you know it's safe to eat and you don't have to return a dish,” Laurie added.  
Clarence let go of her wrist and took the food. “Thank you.”  
Cynthia grinned and stepped back. “We'll stop bothering you now.”  
Clarence looked confused. “You are no bother. Your kindness is much appreciated.”  
Laurie's eyes widened and she gave a little laugh. “Uh, thanks. It was nice to meet you.”  
“Have a good evening,” Clarence said and closed the door when they had left.

He took the food into the kitchen and set it on the counter. Meg followed, quiet. She crossed her arms defensively when Clarence turned and silently looked at her.  
“What?”  
“Are you always armed?”  
“Yep. Got a problem with that?”  
“Would you have really attacked those women?”  
“If needed. And no, I wouldn't feel guilty for it.”  
Clarence nodded. “I see.”  
“I doubt it.”  
She walked over and took the aluminum foil off of the dish. It was a chicken casserole with breadcrumb topping. They'd even heated it up so it was ready to eat.  
“You do not have to be fearful, Meg. I...I can protect you.”  
Meg snorted. “I'm a modern woman, Clarence. I can protect myself. Hence, the knife.”  
“But you do not need to if I'm here,” he was looking at her in a way that made her feel uncomfortable. A strange tightness formed in her chest. She just got plates and didn't reply.

  
“I don't cook,” Meg said the next day when they entered the grocery store. “If you're expecting—“  
“I am not,” he said, grabbing a cart. “You are a modern woman after all.”  
Meg stopped walking and gave a laugh. “Touche.”  
The cart was slowly filled with sandwich makings and frozen ready-to-eat meal kits. Last, he grabbed a roll of cut-and-bake cookie dough.  
“Sweet tooth?” Meg asked.  
“No. These are for Cynthia and Laurie. A thank you for the casserole. Is that the correct etiquette?”  
Meg sure as hell didn't know. “Of course it is.”  
He smiled, relieved. “I'm hoping they could become friends. It would be nice to have friends.”  
“I'm not good enough?” she asked, bumping his shoulder with hers.  
“Of course you are. I just feel...like I want to be surrounded by many people.”  
Angels weren't solitary beings. In Meg's opinion, there were far too many of the cloud hoppers, but she understood where his feeling was coming from.  
And how dangerous it was.  
“Well, seems we have to be neighborly then,” she said.

  
Clarence baked the cookies, cutting each one carefully away from the roll of dough, and taking them out of the oven just when they got to be golden brown. Placing them in a disposable plastic container, Meg and Clarence set off for the neighbors' house.  
Meg didn't want to do it It was one thing to tolerate humans while paying human. It was another to actively seek them out.  
“I like this house,” Clarence said as they walked up the sidewalk. The house was small, with beige siding and stone accents.  
“It's okay,” Meg said and rang the doorbell. The door opened and a child's face peeked out. “Hi, are your moms here?”  
“Mommy Thia is at work, but Mommy Laurie is here,” the little girl said, opening the door wider.  
“Uh, can you go get her?” Meg asked.  
The little girl ran off, leaving the door wide open. Meg rolled her eyes. A few minutes later Laurie came into view and her eyes widened.  
“Emily knows she's not supposed to answer the door when I'm not there,” Laurie said with the slightly frantic laugh of an overwhelmed mother. “So, this is a surprise.”  
Clarence held out the cookies. “I—we—made these as a thank you for the casserole.”  
Laurie took the cookies and Emily came speeding out of the house. The little girl had put on what looked like butterfly wings and was prancing around the yard. Meg kept part of her attention on the conversation and part of her attention on the kid.  
Tiny humans fascinated her. Well, in a horrified fascination. She'd tried children for meat suits when she was new and figuring out what her preference was. She hadn't liked it. They were incomplete and, even demonically enhanced, practically useless in the strength department. She'd quickly decided to leave them for Lilith. Now, as tools for getting adults to cooperate? Perfect.  
“—you do?” Laurie asked.  
“What?” Meg asked, pulled from her thoughts.  
“I asked what you do. Clarence said he's looking for work, but what about you?”  
“I'm rich,” Meg said with a smile.  
“Oh... First branch only!” Laurie called. Emily had decided that butterflies climbed trees, apparently.  
“Yeah. Inheritance. Father just died. So sad.” Meg said. “This was nice, but I'm going back.”  
Clarence and Laurie looked startled, but didn't say anything.  
Meg had taken a few steps when there was a snap, scream, and thud. A branch had broken and Emily had fallen out of the tree. A second later the child started screaming.  
Laurie and Clarence rushed to Emily, and Meg saw the child lift her arm. Laurie looked devastated and helped the now near hysterical child to her feet.  
“I think it's broken. I have to get her—“ Laurie said to Clarence.  
Clarence, however, had a puzzled look on his face. He looked down at his hand and Meg knew what he was about to do. She started towards him, but it was too late. He raised his hand and placed two fingers on Emily's forehead. A moment later, the child stopped screaming and stared at her arm in shock.  
“It doesn't hurt anymore, Mommy,” Emily said.  
“What? I don't understand...” Laurie protested, examining the arm.  
Meg rushed over and tugged on Clarence's arm. “We have to go. Now.”  
“But—“ he protested, seemingly in shock.  
“Now!”

Meg tugged him down the sidewalk. Laurie called after them, but she didn't look back or stop until they were back in their house.  
“That...was monumentally stupid,” Meg said, closing the door and turning to look at the stunned angel.

 


	4. Chapter 4

“Meg, I don't—“ Clarence began, but Meg ignored him. Instead she hurried up the stairs to her bedroom. Pulling a bag out of her closet, she began to toss clothing into it.  
“Go pack,” she told him when he appeared in the doorway.  
“Why?”  
“Go. Now!” she ordered and headed into the bathroom to get her toiletries. When she returned, he hadn't moved, so she put the strap of her bag over her shoulder and grabbed another bag from the closet.  
Pushing past Clarence, she entered his room and opened his dresser. Pulling random clothes out, she tossed them into the bag.  
“Meg. Meg!” he said and pulled the shirt out of her hands. “What is going on?”  
“What's going on is that we need to leave now, thanks to you.” She took the shirt back and threw it in the bag.  
He tugged the bag out of range. “I healed that little girl.”  
“Yeah, you did,” she agreed, reaching over, grabbing the bag back, and adding some boxers to it.  
“How?”  
Meg didn't answer and finished with his clothes. She started to leave to get his toiletries, but he stepped in front of her.  
“Meg, please, answer me! What happened?” he cried. His expression was full of desperation and anguish. She tried to ignore it, to not let it get to her, but she felt a strange ache in her chest, and she sighed. Setting the bag on the floor, she sat down on the foot of his bed.  
“I don't know,” she said. “I don't know how you healed her.”  
He stared at her for a moment, and his face crumpled. He seemed to be fighting back tears, and he nodded, looking down and away. It spoke to the strange ache in her chest, and she felt the need to try and make him feel better.  
“What I do know is that things like this? Most people cannot accept it. They fear it, and fear leads to anger and hate and violence.” She, as a demon, knew that better than anyone. More times than she could count she had fanned the flames of fear into an inferno. “So we need to leave. Now. Get as far away—“  
“No,” he said, looking at her.  
“What?” She threw down the bag and approached him. “Listen, it's my job to keep you safe, and I can't do that if you're being a—“  
He cut her off before she could get colorful. “Those people are kind, Meg. I don't know how I know that, but I do. They won't do anything to us.”  
“No offense, but you don't exactly have a lot of experience with human interaction to call on.”  
“That is true, but I'm trusting my...feelings on this.”  
Meg laughed bitterly. “So now we're going on feelings? Great.”  
He tilted his head. “Isn't what you've been doing?”  
“Right,” she replied flatly. She looked at the bag. “You really won't come with me?”  
“I like it here.”  
“Then I guess we're staying,” she said, picking up her bag and leaving the room.

That night while he slept, she did some research. Before they had moved in, she'd teleported over and placed warding on the entire building. It was the same color as the wall paint so that he wouldn't ask questions. She added to it, layering the wards. Then she hid at least five weapons in all the rooms. That was all she could do, and it made her feel helpless.

o.O.o

Over the next week Meg, kept waiting for an attack. Probably not by the neighbours themselves, but perhaps they would find a way to get in contact with some hunters. She kept watch and refused to drive Clarence into town. She wanted him where she could keep an eye on him. He objected at first but had no real choice in the matter. He didn't know how to drive, and the house was about five miles from town.

  
A knock on the door startled Meg from her phone. Grabbing a knife from the nearby shelf—and ignoring the disapproving look from Clarence—she cautiously answered the door.  
It was Cynthia, Laurie, and a man.  
“What do you want?” Meg asked, letting them see the knife. The women blinked, and the man narrowed his eyes.  
“Thia...” the man said, taking a step back.  
Cynthia held up a hand, stopping him, while not taking her eyes off Meg. “I want to speak to you and Clarence.”  
Meg leaned against the doorjamb and played with the knife. “Why should we trust you?”  
“Meg!” Clarence admonished from behind her.  
Cynthia stepped forward and looked Meg in the eyes. “Because this is my baby brother, and he's dying of leukemia.”  
Meg tilted her head and stared at the woman. “I've got weapons all over and my reflexes are fast. Try anything… Even think of trying anything… And you're dead.”  
“Understood,” Cynthia said, and Meg moved aside to let them in.

Clarence led the visitors into the large living room where they took seats on the sofa. Clarence sat in a chair opposite them, and Meg stayed standing.  
“Your home is pretty,” Laurie said, obviously grudgingly.  
“Thank you. Would you care for a beverage?” Clarence asked.  
“Why are you here?” Meg demanded, interrupting. Clarence narrowed his eyes at her, and she ignored him. She had a job to do.  
“Laurie told me what happened,” Cynthia began.  
“Is Emily all right?” Clarence asked.  
“She's fine,” Laurie said. “We took her to the doctor and they said there is no evidence of a bruise, much less a break.”  
“I'm glad she's well.”  
“What are you?” Laurie demanded.  
Clarence looked surprised, and then uncomfortable. “I'm just a man.”  
“Just men don't do what you did!”  
Meg saw how Laurie's words affected Clarence. He seemed to withdraw into himself, looking at the floor. She sensed that he wanted to leave the room.  
It pissed her off.  
“Its funny… We come to you with cookies and heal your child's broken bone. You respond to that by coming into our house and attacking us,” Meg said.  
Laurie had the decency to look ashamed.  
“We came here looking for help,” Cynthia said.  
“We did help. Again, look at what we got in return.”  
“What if you got money?” Cynthia held out an envelope. Meg took it and pulled out a money order. Several thousand dollars.  
Clarence got up and took it from her. “What is this money for?”  
“My brother,” Cynthia said.  
“Emily's future,” Laurie countered.  
Clarence nodded and handed the envelope to Laurie. “Keep it.”  
Laurie looked grateful, but Cynthia burst into tears. Meg resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She hated sobby humans.  
“Please. We don't have anything else and—“  
Clarence ignored Cynthia and stepped in front of the man. “What is your name?”  
“Christopher.”  
“You've been sick a long time.”  
“Since I was seven. Been in remission twice. It's come back.”  
Clarence reached out and pressed his fingers to his forehead. He concentrated a few minutes and then let his hand drop. Taking a couple of steps to the right, he placed his hand on Laurie's shoulder. Again, he concentrated.  
“What happened to Emily was not your fault. It was simply a tragic accident.”  
Laurie's face crumpled for a second, and then she let out a gasp.  
Clarence returned to his chair. “You're healed now. Christopher's leukemia...and Laurie's spiritual pain.”  
Cynthia gave a gasping sob. “Thank you.”  
Christopher looked stunned, but managed a smile. He probably wouldn't believe it until tests had been done.  
They stood and made their way to the door. Cynthia paused on the porch. “You have a gift, Clarence. You need to share it. Do good in this world. Will you let me tell others?”  
“Yes,” Clarence replied.

  
He closed the door, and Meg could see that he was smiling. He turned to look at her, opening his mouth to speak, but she didn't want to hear it.  
“You're an idiot and I'm done,” Meg said, and started up the stairs. His footsteps were behind her, but she didn't stop until she entered her room and closed the door. He knocked on it, calling her name, and she ignored him. The logical thing would be for her to teleport away. Just leave him and the entire situation behind. Yet, for some reason she didn't want to.  
He continued knocking for a while, and finally there was wonderful silence.  
“Please tell me what I did wrong,” he asked, his voice low and quiet.  
She strode over to the door and threw it open. He was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall. He scrambled up.  
“You're like a fucking child, you know that?” she spat, disgusted.  
His expression changed from hopeful to stormy. “I am not a child.”  
“Then act like it! Use your damn brain if you have one. Do you really think what you just did was in any way smart?”  
“I helped those people. They were in pain.”  
“So what? A lot of people are in pain, Clarence! It's a fact of existence on this rock. You can't heal everyone!”  
He nodded. “That's what this is about. You're upset because I agreed to heal others. I need to do this, Meg. I need to—“  
“You need to have some self-preservation!”  
“I do.”  
“Obviously, you don't.” She crossed her arms. “I can't protect you if you're pulling shit like this.”  
“You don't need to protect me.”  
“Yeah, I do. I was assigned to, remember?”  
“But you don't need to,” he said, strangely earnest.  
“It's my cause,” she said firmly.  
He tilted his head. “Why do you need a cause? Can't you just be?”  
His question was like a slap, cooling her anger. “B-because I do. That's what...That's what you do. You find a cause and stick to it. It guides your life.”  
He frowned, watching her. She suddenly felt like she had been stripped, not just her clothes but down to her demon self.  
“What?” she demanded.  
“You're in pain. I can see it.” He reached out and touched a finger to her skin, right on the side of her neck. She was too stunned to do anything about it. “It's like...thorns. You're wrapped in thorns, Meg, and they're beautiful, but they're hurting you as well as anyone close to you.”  
She smacked his hand away. “Just those that get too close.”  
He smiled at her sadly and left, leaving her to wonder what the hell had just happened.


	5. Chapter 5

After a few weeks of silence, Meg began to relax. Clarence didn't heal anyone, and the neighbors didn't contact him to heal anyone. It seemed that the stupid plan was just a passing idea. He seemed a little down, though, and begged her to take him into town. Meg relented, and while she wandered the only bookstore in town, he disappeared. He returned about a half hour later with a bicycle and news.  
“I got a job,” he said, trying to maneuver his purchase into the backseat of her car.  
“Doing what?” she asked, standing back, watching.   
“The church on main street. I'm going to be doing janitorial duties. It's a beautiful place. Would you like to see on the way home? We pass it.” He finally managed to get it in the back. Whether it would come out again was debatable.  
“Yeah, that's not happening. Let's go. Do you even know how to ride a bicycle?”

He did not. So Meg was treated to him going up and down the street in front of the house trying to learn. He got scraped up pretty bad, and she got a few days entertainment. Eventually, he learned, and her time as a taxi driver was for the most part over. Clarence delighted in his newfound freedom, grabbing onto any flimsy reason to go into town.

Eventually, while he was gone, Meg took to teleporting away. Sometimes it was just to a bar or some other entertainment. Other times it was to indulge her demonic self with things like causing havoc for a warlord. She made sure to wash off the blood before returning home.

One day, she got too complacent, too confident, and she ended up captured.  
Guards were inherently stupid in the demonic community. Meg knew she'd just have to bide her time and wait. Sooner or later she'd be able to free herself. Hopefully before Crowley arrived.  
At first she'd wondered why he hadn't shown up immediately. Then she realized that she was low on his list of priorities, and he was making her sweat anticipating what he was going to do to her.  
Metaphorically, of course. Demons didn't sweat.  
Unfortunately, the lack of intelligence on the part of the guards meant that they got bored easy. They decided to take that boredom out on her.  
Honestly, if Alistair had been there he would have killed them on principle for daring to call it torture. There was no artistry, no finesse. No appreciation for the art form. Just clumsy butchering. It annoyed her more than anything else.  
Finally, after laughing in their faces, they had gone off in search of better tools, and she'd used the opportunity to escape.

She teleported several places on several continents before returning home. By that time her energy was dangerously low. It was the middle of the night. Clarence would thankfully be asleep. This would be hard to explain.  
Appearing in her bathroom, she pulled off her jacket and tried her shirt, stifling a curse when the material stuck to her skin from dry blood. She heard footsteps in the hall.  
“Meg? Are you okay?”  
“I'm fine. Go back to bed.”  
She expected him to listen, but a moment later he appeared in her doorway.  
“What happened?” he cried as he took in her appearance. Without waiting for an answer, he hurried up to her and placed two fingers on her forehead. Of course, nothing happened. He tried his whole hand, but again, nothing.  
He left and returned a few moments later with a bottle of vodka and a clean t-shirt.  
“I'm fine,” she protested, but he didn't listen. Not speaking, he ran warn water in the tub and helped her into it, clothes and all. Reluctantly, she sat down in the water. He handed her the bottle.  
“This will hurt, and we have no painkillers,” he said.  
She took a large drink. “Whatever.”  
Gently, he peeled off her shirt and bra. She heard a sharp intake of breath as he took in her injuries.  
“I don't know how you're not screaming in pain,” he said as he took a washcloth and cleaned her skin. His touch was gentle, and she found a part of herself welcomed it.  
“I'm stronger than you think,” she said flatly. She was trying to think of how she could explain things, and was coming up with nothing.  
He took the bottle from her and poured alcohol over the wounds. “We have no antiseptic either.” He paused. “Who did this to you?”  
“Nobody you would know,” she said flatly.  
“Were...were you hurt in any other way?” he asked quietly.  
Meg rolled her eyes and snorted. “No.”

Helping her to stand, he held up a towel as she peeled off the rest of her filthy and soaked clothes. He narrowed his eyes at the wounds on her chest and stomach, but they weren't as bad as her back. She wrapped the towel around herself.  
He handed her the t-shirt. “There are no bandages and I don't care if this gets ruined.”  
“Thanks,” she said, pulling it on and going into her room. She was exhausted, and yes, sore, and just wanted to rest so she could heal.

He followed her and waited until she'd climbed under her blankets. It was her first time doing so and they were really comfortable.  
“What are you?” he asked quietly.  
“I'm tired and sore.”  
“Meg, please. And please don't lie to me. I can't heal you and no normal human could…” he trailed off.  
She decided on the truth just to shut him up, and let her eyes flick to Black. “I'm a demon.”  
Clarence stated at her for a long time before nodding. “Thank you.”  
Meg gave an incredulous laugh. “That's it? You're not scared?”  
“No. Should I be?”  
She sat up, feeling mildly insulted. “I'm a demon. As in from Hell. I've done things you wouldn't believe. Bathed in blood. Worn entrails as accessories. Hell, I became a demon by torturing souls. I'm not a good creature.”  
He sat down on the foot of her bed. “Yet, you rescued me. Cared for me. Was none of that real?” He paused. “Or was it all because I’m a prisoner?”  
“No. You're not.”  
He studied her and tilted his head. She didn't like the way he was looking at her. It was a mix of sympathy, compassion, and something she couldn't identify. She'd seen him look at her that unidentifiable way several times before, and it was confusing. “I think you're wrong about yourself.”  
“What the hell does that mean?”  
“It means I see you clearer than you think.”

o.O.o

The sun was warm on Meg’s skin, and she laid back in the soft grass. “What do you want now?”  
“Just making sure you're still in this,” Chuck said from somewhere nearby.  
Meg snorted. “Please. Like I'd let something like that stop me. Give me a few days and I'll be back to bodyguard status.”  
“Is that what you think you are? A bodyguard?”  
“That's what you hired me for, right?”  
“Yeah, but people change. Relationships change.”  
“Demon, remember? We don't change.”  
Chuck laughed. “So it's normal for a demon to sun itself in a dreamscape while talking to--” He broke off.  
Meg opened her eyes and sat up, a slow smile on her face. “Talking to who...Chuck?”

o.O.o

  
She awoke suddenly in her room. “Wow. Touchy,” she muttered, burrowing further under her blankets.  
Then she realized all her injuries were healed.

  
The next day Meg went downstairs to find music playing and Clarence in the kitchen. The room smelled like eggs and ham. He turned, an orange in his hand, when he heard her footsteps.  
“You're up. Are you—“ he began.  
“Fully healed,” she replied sitting on one of the barstools.  
He set down the orange. “Fully? Is...that a demon thing?”  
“Healing fast is. But...this was...” She sighed. “You know those dreams? I had another one and the person in my dreams healed me, I think.”  
“Who is it?”  
“I don't know, but he's powerful.” Chuck made her nervous. In the back of her mind she had the sliver of a thought as to who he could be, and she shied away from it. It just wasn't possible.  
He cut orange into quarters and placed them on a plate. Adding scrambled eggs and a few slices of fried ham, he set it in front of her. “I was going to bring this to you but...”  
“Thanks,” she said. She was tempted to tell him that she didn't need to eat, but something stopped her. The gesture was just so...something.  
He made himself a plate and joined her. They ate in silence for a few minutes before he set down his fork.  
“Meg, I...”  
“What?”  
“I don't like what happened to you. You had me very worried.”  
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “I'm fine. It wasn't the worst thing to happen to me.”  
He turned towards her. “Those wounds were horrible.”  
“I'm practically invincible, okay? It's very hard to kill me.”  
“But you can be killed.”  
“Yes,” she said quietly. “And I'm not telling you how, so don't ask.”  
“I'd never ask,” he replied, his tone serious.  
Meg didn't reply, listening to the music instead. Something about the conversation was causing a nervous feeling inside her. She couldn't quite pinpoint what it was though.  
“Meg?” he asked, and she felt a light, hesitant touch on her hand. She looked at him, and he gently took a hold of her hand. “I understand that whatever happened to you had to do with your being a demon, but please...please do not let it happen again.”  
“I didn't exactly ask for it,” she replied, wondering why her words had no heat in them, and most of all, why she wasn't pulling her hand away. “Why do you care?”  
“Please be careful.”  
“Again, why do you care?”  
“You mean a lot to me,” he replied.  
She didn't know how to respond to that. His words stirred up that nervous feeling.  
“Meg, I...” he trailed off, and to her utter shock, leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.  
It was nothing like the Pizza Man Kiss. His lips were hesitant, unsure, and completely lacked confidence. A moment later, he pulled away. “I'm sorry. Should I have not done that?”  
No, he shouldn't have. Even if he didn't know, he was an angel and she was a demon. It was one thing for her to kiss him to steal his angel blade. Or for him to kiss her in the heat of pre-battle. This was different.  
Yet, she'd liked it. Wanted to do it again, even.  
“It's fine,” she said, and leaned in, kissing him. He responded eagerly, his hand moving up to touch the side of her face, and then into her hair. She reached out and pulled him closer, opening her mouth to deepen the kiss.


	6. Chapter 6

Chuck was being suspiciously absent.  
It had been over a month since Meg and Clarence had kissed. Seriously kissed. She had expected to encounter Chuck in a dream, but there had been nothing. Whether this was a good thing or a bad one, she wasn't sure. She'd expected Chuck to be furious, which she could have handled. Silence was worse.

Clarence retreated into a kind of contemplative distance after the kiss. He kept staring at her when he though she wasn't looking. Since she had her own thoughts and feelings to try to figure out, she didn't confront him.

  
One day Meg was in the reading nook of her room when she heard a knock on the door. Calling for him to enter, she watched as Clarence took exactly two steps into the room and stopped.  
“Can I help you?” she asked.  
“I was wondering if you would like to go into town and have dinner. With me. Together,” he asked, at first direct, but then he looked at the floor.  
“You mean like a date?”  
“Yes.”  
“You know, as a demon I don't really need to eat.”  
He looked disappointed, but nodded. “I see. So all of this time you've been doing it because you've been pretending?”  
“Yeah. Well, that and I love junk food. It can't do anything to me. I do drink, though, so if you don't mind my not eating, sure.”  
He brightened. “That's fine.”  
She found that she couldn't help but smile with him for some reason. “Let's go.”

The town was small, and the only choices were a biker bar and a comfort food restaurant. Meg wanted the bar, but knew it would scare Clarence, so they went to the restaurant. Clarence ordered chicken fried steak, and Meg got a beer because they didn't have anything stronger.  
“I'm sorry. I know you're not enjoying—“ he began, picking at his food.  
“Stop. If I didn't want to be here I wouldn't. Believe me. You gonna play with it or eat it?”  
A couple came into the restaurant. Clarence spotted them and seemed to hunch down in his seat. They didn't notice him.  
“Explain.” Meg said, wondering if she needed to pay them a visit.  
“They work at the church. I no longer do.”  
“Thought you liked it there. You were being all independent.” She'd explained that they didn't need the money, but he had said it wasn't about the money. He needed to be doing something.  
“We had a disagreement.” He was looking resolutely down at his plate.  
“Hey. What happened?” If someone had done something to him, she would make sure they would pay.  
“We had a disagreement,” he repeated stubbornly.  
It was like pulling teeth. No, actually, pulling teeth was easier. “About?”  
“I asked about demons. Whether they were always evil? He said yes. I asked if a demon could ever be redeemed? He said no. I countered that he said that God was just and loving, therefore the idea that something or someone could never be redeemed went against that. He countered that evil is evil and cannot be changed. So I quit.”  
Meg stared at him and gave him a small, sad smile. “Why are you so sweet on me, Clarence?”  
He returned the smile. “I don't know.”

  
It was late in the night, early morning really, when she heard Clarence's cell phone ring. He answered it, told the person he would be right there, and hung up. A few minutes later he left the house. Meg concerned and suspicious, followed him.

Clarence bicycled into town and to the church. After locking up his bicycle, he hurried inside.  
Meg surveyed the building with an annoyed frown. The whole situation stank, and she felt a twinge of concern for Clarence. Making sure her weapons were easily accessible, she entered the church. She frowned at the slight burn. Even though she was strong enough to walk on hallowed ground, she didn't like it.  
She found Clarence in an office, leaning on a desk, looking tired. An elderly man was just getting up from a chair, seemingly shocked, but healthy. Another man, the man she had seen at the restaurant, was watching the elderly man with concern and barely concealed happiness.  
“I'm sorry, we're closed,” the man from the restaurant said to Meg.  
Meg snorted. “I'm not even going to touch that one. I'm here for him.”  
“Meg?” Clarence asked, but didn't say anything else, and let her grab onto his arm.  
“This is the end. Don't contact him again,” Meg told the men.  
“He has a duty to God—“ the younger man protested.  
“Yeah, I'm pretty sure I have a bit more authority on that matter than you.” She let her eyes flick to Black. “Leave him alone, or deal with me next time.”

  
Back at their house, Meg unceremoniously deposited Clarence on the sofa and sat on the coffee table in front of him. “You weren't a janitor, were you?”  
“I was, at first. I didn't lie to you, Meg! Then they found out and said it was my duty to heal.”  
“That old man—“  
“Was dying.”  
“Yeah, that's what old people do. It's the end of their lives.” She shuddered to think about all the old age problems he'd healed. No wonder he looked exhausted.  
He shrugged tiredly. “I helped him. I need to help.”  
“Fine. But from now on we do it my way,” she said. “Every single applicant goes through me first. I won't let anybody take advantage of you again.”  
“Why?”  
“Have you not been listening? It's my duty to protect you.”  
“Your duty. Your cause. Of course that would be the only reason” He looked at her. “I don't want to be your cause anymore.”  
There was a stabbing pain in her chest and nodded. “Fine. Whatever.”  
She started to stand but he placed his hands on her arms to stop her. “I mean, I want to be more than your cause, and I want...I want you to be here because you want to, not because of duty. ”  
“But a cause is...” she broke off, unsure of what exactly he was telling her. No, that wasn't entirely true. She did understand...she just couldn't believe it. “What do you want from me?”  
“I want—“ he stopped. “I want you to...”  
Meg felt a sudden nervousness that was completely foreign to her. A part of her wanted to get up and run, but she forced herself to stay. “Clarence?”  
“I want you to be with me forever, but not because it is your duty or cause.”  
“I...”  
“I want...I want to be your husband.”  
Meg gave a short laugh of shock. “What?”  
He looked at her now, and she could tell that he was completely serious.   
“Will you marry me, Meg?”  
She stood up now and walked to the other side of the room. Turning to him, she crossed her arms as though that would protect her from this whole conversation. “You're crazy. We haven't even known each other for six months.” Not true, but he didn't know that.  
And that right there was just one of many reasons why this couldn't happen.  
“I don't care. I know how I feel.”  
“You could have a wife out there somewhere,” she protested, grasping at straws.  
“I don't think so. I don't feel married.”  
She shook her head. “Look, if this is just because you want to screw—“  
“No!” he exclaimed. “I mean, I wou—that is not the reason.”  
“Then what is?”  
“I told you.”  
She closed her eyes and turned her back on him. This was crazy. Demons didn't marry, and they sure as hell didn't marry angels. Especially not amnesiac angels who think that they're human.  
But...why did it even really matter? It wouldn't be a real marriage. Again, demon. Angel. Their identities were fake.  
Everything about this entire situation was fake, so why not let him have this?  
“Fine. Why the hell not? Let's get married.”

  
One week later Meg found herself at the local courthouse. She was wearing a shiny black top and black jeans. She flat out refused to wear a dress or wedding gown. Clarence had been fine with it, and went out got got himself a suit.  
A black suit with white button down shirt and blue tie.  
Meg had froze when she'd first seen it, but he'd shown no sign of remembering his true identity. He'd simply said that he'd felt a tuxedo would be too much considering her choice of clothes.  
She still kept an eye on him the rest of the day.

The judge called them in and Clarence briefly spoke to him. A moment later, the judge began to speak. Meg tuned out most of the wedding fluff, and before she knew it, it was time for the vows.  
Clarence took her hand and spoke in a clear voice. "I, Clarence, take you, Meg, to be no other than yourself. Loving what I know of you, trusting what I do not yet know, I will respect your integrity and have faith in your abiding love for me, through all our years, and in all that life may bring us."  
He spoke with complete sincerity, and she found herself staring at him in shock. When she didn't speak, he shifted uncomfortably.  
“Was that too non-traditional? I didn't think that you would wish for traditional vows. You're not the 'obey' type.”  
“Depends on the context,” she replied with a smirk. Realizing she couldn't delay any longer, she spoke. They were just words after all.  
“I, Meg, take you, Clarence, to be no other than yourself. Loving what I know of you, trusting what I do not yet know, I will respect your integrity and have faith in your abiding love for me, through all our years, and in all that life may bring us.”  
Lies. Every word was a lie. It was a good thing she was so perfect at it.  
It was time for the rings. Clarence slipped a simple silver band onto her finger. She should have been surprised that he knew she preferred silver to gold, but she wasn't. He was very observant.  
“By the power vested in my by the State of Washington, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the judge said.  
Clarence leaned in and lightly pressed his lips to hers, sealing the marriage.

  
Back at the house, Cas made some steaks and mashed potatoes. Because of the occasion, Meg agreed to have some. As the night went on, however, she could see an increasing anxiety in him, and could guess the reason.  
“Tired?” she asked, seeing him stifle a yawn.  
“N-no. I'm fine,” he muttered, looking away.  
“Mm hmm,” she leaned over and gently kissed him. “Night, Clarence.”  
As she made her way to the stairs, she could feel him watching her.  
She had expected to have some physical fun this evening. It was her wedding night, after all. But she could see his nervousness and hesitation, and she'd never found any pleasure as a demon in forcing others. Well, sexually, anyway.

  
She went into her bedroom and changed her clothes. In the bathroom next door she heard the water running. Grabbing her latest book, she climbed onto the bed and began to read. After a while the water shut off. Making a decision, she got up and went to the door. Clarence was just coming out of the bathroom. He had on a pair of deep blue pajamas that looked brand new.  
“This is your room now. Right?” she asked, opening the door wider.  
He hesitated, and she suddenly felt uncertain. Maybe she'd got it all wrong. Maybe his nervousness wasn't because he was a virgin, but because he didn't want to have sex at all, and sensed that she did.  
“It's a really comfortable bed. Perfect for sleep. I think. I don't sleep but...” she broke off and crossed her arms, looking down.  
“Okay,” he said.

She moved aside and let him into the room. He took a few steps in and stopped. Walking past him, she climbed onto the bed and moved over to one side. He stepped up to the bed and slowly pushed back the bedding and climbed in, pulling the blankets and sheet over himself. After a moment she pushed down the blankets on her side and also climbed in.  
“You don't sleep?” he asked.  
“Only if I'm really injured or low on energy,” she replied.  
“But you've dreamed.”  
“Yeah. Whoever it is that I'm speaking to in my dreams can make me sleep, but it's not normal.”  
“But you're a demon and really powerful, right?”  
“Yep,” she replied. “But...I have this feeling that they can do anything they want.”  
“I'm glad that they guided you to me, but I don't like them doing things to you without your permission,” he said and burrowed further under the blankets, closing his eyes. Soon his breathing evened out and she knew he was asleep.  
Meg reached for her book and then hesitated. Turning off the light, she laid down and moved closer until she was pressed up against him.

Sometime in the night she felt him reach out and put his arms around her. She settled into the embrace and he slept on. It felt strange, but in a weird way almost...comforting? Like she belonged there.  
After a few hours she sensed him awaken, but he hadn't opened his eyes yet. She leaned in and gently kissed him. He responded, his hand cradling the side of her face. He opened his mouth, deepening the kiss.  
Her hands moved to his chest and she slowly began to unbutton his top. She paused after the first button, but he didn't stop her, so she continued. Her knuckles would lightly graze his skin as she went, and she felt him lightly tremble. When she unfastened the last button, he sat up and let her push it off his shoulders.   
Reaching down, she grabbed her sleep shirt and pulled it off, tossing it on the floor. His eyes moved over her body.  
“You are very beautiful,” he said quietly.  
She snorted and reached for him, kissing him. “No need to lie. We're wedded and almost bedded.”  
He pulled back slightly. “I would never lie to you.”  
“I know you can see my true self,” she countered, laying back.  
“Yes. And it's beautiful. I can see every scar. Every twist. All the thorns and pain.” As he spoke he ran his fingers lightly down her skin until his hand rested on her hip.  
“An abomination,” she said. He'd called her that when they'd last met. Before the kiss.  
“No. You are not an abomination, Meg. Please don't think that.”  
She reached up and cupped the back of his head, pulling him down to her. “Shut up, and come here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The vows are taken from The Knot's nondenominational vows page. They were written by Reverend Ben Brauer and I do not own them.


	7. Chapter 7

Clarence started healing again, and true to what they had agreed on, every applicant went through Meg. Many of them were either false with the intent to discredit him, or people just looking to prolong their lives. Meg ruled all of them out and approved the genuinely ill. Despite her misgivings, she even approved someone who was obviously a Hunter. He'd been going blind in one eye. She wasn't sure if he figured out she was a demon. He didn't say anything, or try to kill her.

Their life together settled into something pleasant. One day he came home and set a small, filthy puff of black fur on her lap. It turned out to be a half-starved kitten. Their “first child” he said. He'd found it in an ally while in town. She had no idea how he'd managed to get it home on his bicycle, but he had. Meg rolled her eyes and handed the meowing, squirming, scratching thing back to him with orders for a bath. The animal seemed to hate her at first. Smart thing. Yet, over time it grew less afraid and then wouldn't leave her side. She actually grew to admire its attitude. They named it Nyx.

Despite all of it, Meg knew it would end. It had to. Happy Ever Afters were for storybooks, and even if they were real, she wouldn't get one. Those were for heroes. She was a demon, and so all that awaited her was pain and death.  
Poetic, almost, since that's what she had brought others for centuries.

So when Dean Winchester showed up on her doorstep one day, she wasn't really surprised.  
He was, pulled out his Demon Killing Knife, and pointed it at her. “Meg? What the hell are you doing here?”  
“You know, it's really impolite to threaten someone on their own doorstep.”  
“You live here?”  
She made a show of looking around. “Yep. My house.”  
“I was told this is where a true healer lives. I'm supposed to talk to his wife.” Dean looked at her accusingly, as though she'd done something to them.  
Meg crossed her arms. “He's not here.”  
Actually, he was upstairs still asleep, and she hoped he'd stay that way.  
“So he does live here.” She didn't reply. “Cut the crap, Meg. Does the healer live here or not?”  
“Why?”  
“Why what?”  
“Why do you need him?”  
Dean's expression grew stony. “None of your business.”  
Meg smiled. “Wrong answer. Bye.”  
She started to close the door, but his arm shot out in an attempt to stop her.  
“Don't test me, Meg,” he growled, moving the knife closer to her. “I will gank you without a second thought.”  
“Excuse me,” she heard behind her. “Why are you threatening my wife?”  
Dean’s expression changed from angry to stunned. “Cas?”  
“Please, there's no need for violence. Put the knife down.”  
“You're dead. I watched you die!”  
Clarence came up next to her. “You've obviously mixed me up with someone else. I'm Clarence, and this is my wife, Meg. Please, put the knife down.”  
Dean looked back and forth between the two of them. “What did you do to him, you bitch?”  
Beside her, she felt Clarence stiffen. “Obviously, you are distressed, and I am understanding of that. However, I will not tolerate rudeness.”  
Dean gaped at him. “She's not your wife, and your name isn't Clarence. Cas, it's me. Dean.”  
“I'm sorry, but I don't know you,” Clarence said, and for a moment Meg felt this might work out.  
“Don't know me?” Dean scoffed, and Meg could see a little bit of hurt deep inside Dean’s expression. “Dude, you...you rescued me from Hell.”  
Clarence gave an uncertain smile. “What?”  
“Yeah. ‘Raised you from Perdition.’ Ring a bell? Your name isn't Clarence. You're Castiel. An angel.”  
Meg saw that troubled blankness look that had occasionally crossed his eyes return, and she backed away. The men were too focused on each other to even notice. She watched as Clarence's entire body language changed. His spine stiffened as he remembered he was in a vessel, not born into a body.  
Then she felt it. The flare of angelic grace.  
“Dean? I do not understand.” he asked, his voice changing from easy to the uncertain tones of someone for whom English wasn't their first language.  
“There you are,” Dean said, and then his expression hardened. “You need to come with me.”  
“Whatever you need,” Castiel said.  
Meg felt like vomiting. It didn't matter that the last time Castiel had seen Dean, Dean had stood by and let Sam put an angel blade in Cas' back. It just mattered that the Winchesters needed him.  
And Meg was forgotten. Ignored.

She closed the door and leaned against it. Her chest ached and she didn't know why. Slowly, she made her way upstairs. Grabbing her bag, she methodically began to pack. She resolutely didn't look around at the remains of her shared life with Clarence. Her goal was to get her things and get out.  
She finished, and as she was closing the zipper, she heard the flutter of wings and felt angelic grace. Slowly, she turned around to face him. Angling her body so he couldn't see her right side, she pulled a hidden angel blade into her hand.  
“Why?” he asked, his voice low and harsh.  
“You don't remember?”  
“I remember everything. Was it all a lie? A demon trick?”  
Meg felt the ache in her chest increase until it consumed her. Raising the angel blade, she moved past him without answering. She was almost out the door when she felt him grab her arm. She spun around and lashed out with the blade. “Don't touch me.”  
“Suddenly I'm not allowed to touch you? Am I not your husband?” he asked, his tone mocking.  
“No. You’re not. My husband is obviously dead.” She hated the way her voice shook.  
Her husband would not have needed to ask if it was all a lie. Most importantly, he would look at her with love, not like she was the filth beneath his shoes. An abomination.  
Cas’ expression changed to surprise, and she took the opportunity to teleport away.

 

She arrived at one of her safe houses and set her bag down. Immediately, she reinforced her wards, especially the anti-angel ones. Feeling secure but for some reason not better, she sat down on the sofa.

o.O.o

—and found herself back in the field.  
“Meg?”  
She turned and looked at Chuck, rage filling her. She clenched her fists and held it in. Lashing out was her instinct, but she had the feeling that attacking would be a bad idea. “Oh, now you show up. Well, you're too late. It's over.”  
Chuck stuck his hands in his pockets. “Is it?”  
“I did everything you asked. I found him, protected him, didn't trigger his memory—“  
Chuck nodded. “Married him.”  
Meg felt like she'd been punched, and the ache in her chest grew. “I was just humoring him. It didn't count.”  
“Really?  
“Yeah. Were you paying attention to the vows? I said 'to be no other than yourself' and that wasn't him. Clarence wasn't real.” She felt a stabbing pain in her chest and sat down in the soft grass.  
Chuck sighed and shook his head, sitting next to her. “I actually think Clarence was him at his most true.”  
“How is that possible?”  
Chuck gave a bitter smile. “I was so proud of my angels when I created them. The archangels, I mean. The other angels...I mean, yeah I was proud, but there were just so many. I got a bit carried away. Anyway, those same archangels became such a disappointment to me. Then the humans... Well, so much happened that I didn't really focus on the lower angels like I should have, and then I left. So those same disappointing archangels taught the lower angels how to act, how to believe. Castiel is the product of that.”  
“So what you're saying is, take away what the other angels taught him and...it's Clarence?”  
“Someone who loves deeply and just wants to help everyone,” Chuck confirmed. “Yeah, he usually screws things up and makes them worse, but deep down he's pure.”  
“You don't think I corrupted him?” Meg asked. “I married your angel. Screwed him. You don't think he's tainted now?”  
He didn't rise to her bait. “Quite the opposite.”  
“What's that supposed to mean?”  
“Oh, Meg. Or should I call you Joan? That was your human name. You're a demon who rescued an angel. Protected him. Helped him help others. Married him. Loved him. Made love with him.” He smiled when she flinched. “Yeah, that's right. You didn't screw him. You loved him and he loved you.”  
Meg looked away.  
“Castiel is a Fallen angel. But more importantly, you're a Risen demon.” He sounded strangely excited.  
“There's no such thing.”  
“There hadn't been until now. My experiment worked.”  
“Excuse me?”  
“When you and Castiel first kissed, I was appalled. Then I got really bored. I should never get bored. The last time that happened? Well, let's just say there's a reason the platypus exists. I started thinking...”  
Meg closed her eyes and felt nauseated. She'd been nothing more than a pawn for a bored deity. Cla—Castiel hadn't been brought back for any important reason. It had all been for nothing. An amusement.  
“I'd like to wake up now,” she said, surprised at her restraint.  
Chuck waved his had dismissively.

o.O.o

Meg stayed in her apartment until the alcohol ran out. When she opened her door, she found Castiel waiting in the hallway.  
“What the hell do you want?” she asked, pulling her angel blade out.  
He stared at her for a few moments, and then she noticed his coat moving. A small, black head poked out of a pocket, meowed, and jumped down. It scampered up to her and clawed her leg, meowing.  
“You forgot her,” he finally said.  
Nyx's meowing got more insistent and the kitten tried climbing her leg. Unable to stand it any longer, Meg reached down and picked the animal up. Nyx head-butted her neck, purring.  
“Thanks. How'd you find me?”  
“I'll always find you, Meg.”  
“Yeah, that's not creepy or stalkerish at all.”  
“I am your husband.”  
She gripped both Nyx and the angel blade harder. “Are you?”  
His brow wrinkled. “We did get married.”  
“My husband wouldn't have talked to me the way you did. He wouldn't have accused me. He—“ She broke off for a moment and then finally said the words. “He loves me. So again, I ask, are you?”  
“I—“ His indecision infuriated her, and she wanted to punish him.  
“Do you want to spend time with me? Live with me?” she asked, her tone mocking. She stepped forward until she was inches from him. Tilting her head up, she gave him a vicious smile. “Kiss me? Touch me? Be inside me?”  
He stayed silent.  
“Or do you want to smite me?”  
“I cannot smite you,” he said, his voice low.  
“You're a full powered angel again. Sure you can. I believe in you.”  
“I do not want to.”  
“What do you want?” she asked, frustrated. “Make up your mind. I'm bored.”  
“I want you,” he said simply. “I was wrong. I realize that now.”  
She didn't believe him, but he could have smote her several times by now. She couldn't even feel his grace gathering, nor had he reached for a weapon.  
“I don't know why,” he said simply. “It does not make sense, but it is the truth.”  
She thought about telling him Chuck's manipulations but decided against it. Which made no sense, because finding out that his Father thought of him as nothing more than a tool for His amusement would devastate the angel. She didn't want to do that. She wanted—  
“What about the Winchesters?” she asked, buying time.  
Castiel frowned. “I am finished with them. I healed Sam's brain from what I did to him and left. I cannot forgive them for killing me, or for not listening to me in the first place, long before that.”  
“Good for you.”  
He gave her a small smile. “Will you come home?”  
“You want to just go back to how we were?” she asked.  
Nyx meowed and hopped over to him. The kitten nuzzled his cheek and settled herself on his shoulder. “Yes. But with all my memories. What do you want, Meg?”  
She still didn't completely trust him anymore, but that was overpowered by...by...  
Ah, hell, by love. She loved him. She'd loved him for a long time now.  
Grabbing her bag from where she'd dropped it on the floor, she returned to him. “Let's go.”

  
They returned to an inferno.  
Quickly Cas teleported them out of the burning house and into the woods across the street.  
“I do not understand. There was nothing that could have started this,” Cas said.  
Meg nodded down the street where a car was idling. Inside, she could see the man from the church along with a few other men. “Look.”  
Cas seemed dismayed. “Then this is my fault.”  
“No. It's theirs.” She let her eyes flick to Black. “I warned them.”  
“Meg...”  
Furious, Meg started towards the car. A hand on her arm stopped her.  
“Let me,” Cas said.  
“I'm the one--”  
“It will mean more from me.”

He walked to the car, and before the occupants could even blink, calmly ripped the door from the car and pulled the driver out.  
“I heal your father, and this is what I receive in return?” Cas asked.  
“It's our duty to drive the demon from our midst,” the man said, struggling in Cas’ grip.  
“The demon has done nothing to you.”  
“Her mere presence is enough. Obviously, she's ensnared you.”  
Meg snorted.  
Cas’ eyes began to glow, and his wings manifested as great shadows. Even his body language changed, and Meg loved it. This was as close as she would ever get to being able to see the true Cas. Though a part of her did cower. She was a demon, after all.   
“You think a demon can ensnare me? I'm an Angel of the Lord.”  
The man stopped cowering and stared in amazement. On the other side of the car, the other occupants frantically climbed out and scurried into the night. In the distance she heard sirens.  
“P-please. I only wanted to do holy--”  
“You are far from holy. You've been judged, Robert McPherson.”  
Without another word Cas and Robert teleported away.

Meg contemplated going after the other arsonists, but a moment later Cas reappeared next to her.  
“What'd you do?” she asked.  
“He's in a jail cell.”  
“That's it? Couldn't you have roughed him up a bit? He burned our house down!”  
The fire trucks had arrived, and they moved further into the trees.  
“His mind is...not what it was,” Cas said grimly.  
Meg grinned. “Well, that's something. Now what?”  
“We no longer have a home.”  
“Nope.”  
“We could get a new one? Together? If you want.”  
“I want,” she confirmed. “For now, let's go back to my apartment.”  
“Why?”  
“So we can look for a new place.” She paused, remembering him in full angel mode. “After.”  
“After?”  
Leaning up, she firmly kissed him. “After…”  
“I see. Yes, definitely...after.”

 


End file.
